Immortal Guardians
by fabulousgirl85
Summary: Charlotte "Charley" Marchand is a girl lost in a big city, trying to move on from her past. One night she is attacked by a man covered in strange markings asking her to pay for the sins of her father. Enter Damon and Stefan Salvatore, brothers who open up her eyes to a world that has haunted her past and may challenge her future. UPDATE: Chapter 2 is up!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER! I do not own the characters of Damon and Stefan Salvatore... However, they are such fun characters to utilize. The plot and OCs are all mine. Enjoy! this is the first time I'm posting my fan fiction in a public forum!

A sliver of sunlight peeked through Charlotte Marchand's thick, coffee-colored curtains. The trail of light illuminated her figure which rested on her couch. An infomercial on moisturizing socks was playing on the small plasma TV, yet Charlotte, or Charley as she liked to be called, wasn't watching it. On the contrary, her mind was deep in the recesses of a drunken REM cycle. After a long night of flirting with bartenders at the upscale bars in the part of Philadelphia called Old City, she had taken a cab back to her apartment on the upper end of Chestnut Street, climbed the short flight of stairs to her second story room and collapsed on her black leather couch, wrapping her afghan throw around her body. Slowly, the sun moved upward and the trail crept closer to her face, prying her eyes open slowly. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes, and groaned.

The last thing she wanted to do was wake up, especially as early as she was. It was a Saturday, which meant that she had the chance to sleep in and be lazy, unlike the rest of her week, which she spent going to class, studying and doing research for her research assistantship at her university. She truly did not condone staying out all night and getting extremely drunk, but as her best friend Lena always said, 'alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.' She was a theater major, a huge fan of George Bernard Shaw, and loved living her life by famous people's quotes. She was also very manipulative and convincing, which was why Charley always found herself leaning over a bar soaking wet with spilled liquor and beer, grabbing another mixed drink from the bartender.

She reached down to locate her purse, which was sitting on the floor directly underneath her. She picked it up and pulled out her cell phone. She pressed a button on the side of her phone, which woke it up from its own sleep. The time was seven A.M. She sighed and rested her head back onto the couch. She should have gone back to sleep. However, today was not the day to do that. It was the one day a year where she needed to be alert. The very thought of the day sobered her up immediately. She stood up and walked toward her bathroom, undressing herself as she walked, throwing her dress into the hamper next to the bathroom door. She then turned on the faucet and splashed her face a few times with water to try and remove the remaining mascara and eye shadow from her face. As she dried her face off, she couldn't help but grimace at her reflection; her eyes were dark from lack of sleep and her skin pale. She knew she needed to invigorate herself before she went out and faced the day.

She left the bathroom and headed to her room, throwing on a pair of running pants and a pink ADIDAS t-shirt. Fall was just beginning to hit, so the mornings were prime times to go for a run outside, and it would be just the thing she needed to wake her up and focus her mind on what she had to do today. She threw her blonde hair up into a high ponytail and brushed her long bangs away from her face and secured them with a bobby pin. After slipping on her running shoes and setting up her running playlist, she left the apartment.

Running was the best way that Charley found to get her mind off the stress that she was feeling. School was about two months in, and she was in the thick of all her classes. In addition, she had taken on a graduate research assistant position with her favorite professor, and spent long hours perusing over books, journal articles and websites, trying to help him compile enough evidence for his book. She knew it was all preparing her for her future, yet she still felt sometimes that it wasn't the right future for her, but the future that she just knew and felt comfortable with. However, today school work was in the back of her mind. Today was the day that she had to focus on only one thing: the anniversary of her parents' death.

When she was eighteen years old, her father and mother disappeared after a neighbor's party. Charley was away in college, and her sister Jen, who was a year behind her, called her a day after the party to ask if she'd come home to help search for their parents. They spent a week with the police and her best friend Lena's parents searching for them, when the police pulled two bodies, mutilated, out of the small creek five miles down from their neighborhood. Charley remembered the look on Lena's Mom's face as the police first told her and her husband the news quietly before they had to break it to Charley and Jen. Jen threw up on Lena's couch when they told her and Charley just started to sob. The police interviewed many people in the neighborhood and others that were close to her parents, but could never find a suspect or motive. So Charley and Jen buried their parents without any hope of reconciling the event.

After they died, a man showed up name Mr. Hodges. He said he was their parents lawyer and he produced a will with instructions on how to access their parents funds and how to divvy up their belongings. Both of her parents were only children  
and their parents died before Charley was born, so Charley and Jen were the only family they had. Lena's parents took them both in to ensure that they always had somewhere to call home, even though both of them were in the early stages of adulthood, and slowly Charley and Jen rebuilt their lives. Charley continued going to college and Jen took the money her parents passed onto her and started her own boutique store in their old town. However, every year on this particular day, they came together reminisce about their parents and to overload on homemade desserts. Jen would take the train into the city and they would curl up on Charley's couch in their comfiest clothing partaking in various types of cookies and cakes. The first time they did it, both of them cried. But as time went on, they began to delight in the good times they shared with their parents and focus on the events of their own lives. It had turned into a sisterly bonding sessions that brought them closer together.

As she started to delve into her thoughts, she forgot to pay attention to her surroundings and stumbled on a large crack in the sidewalk. As she felt herself losing her balance, a hand reached out and she grabbed it.

"Thanks!" she said with gasping breath. She looked up to see who had saved her. It was a tall, well-built man with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a smirk.

"No problem, just doing my job, saving women from stumbling over their own feet," he remarked, bowing slightly. He wore a very monochromatic outfit made up of dark washed fitted jeans, black boots and a black button up shirt with a black long pea coat. She wondered for a second if he had just finished work as a stagehand for some show and was making the walk of shame home from some actress's apartment. That premise was something she had seen before courtesy of Lena.

She blushed. "Ah, well, they don't pay you enough to do it I assure you."

He chuckled. "Yes, they most certainly don't." He tipped his head in her direction. "You be careful now, you hear? I won't always be around to save you from certain death."

"I'll try, thank you, my mysterious savior." She laughed and mocked a curtsy as he walked away. She couldn't help but watch as he walked, and he must have felt her eyes burning into his back, because he looked over his shoulder, and let his eyes bore into hers for just a second before he winked. Then he turned and continued on his way.

Charley shook her head, clearing her briefly dirty thoughts, and then continued her run. It had been a long time since she had last been on a date or had a boyfriend, so the picture of her mystery man would be a welcome image in her mind for a few nights to come and was a welcomed distraction from her current thoughts of mourning.

As her figure became more of a spec of pink in distance, a man in a black leather jacket, ripped black skinny jeans and blond spiked hair, appeared from behind a tall broad oak tree that stood just five feet from where Charley had fallen. His face was pallid and gaunt and his eyes an unnatural onyx color, and they were narrowed suspiciously in Charley's general direction. His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

"Yes?" he answered. He waited for the person on the other line to speak. "Yes, I went to the address you told me to go to and I found her leaving it." The person on the other line spoke quickly. "I did follow her." They asked a question. "We are not mistaken. That's her. I would notice that _venator's _face anywhere." Another hurried response. "Okay, I can do that." He then hung up and glanced at Charley's path once more. Once she was completely out of sight, he slowly walked the direction she had ran from and gradually, his body faded from sight, disappearing completely.

"So, true or false, you had a major crush on Alex Strong back in fifth grade." Charley looked over at her sister, Jen, who was looking at her expectantly as she was mixing a peanut butter cookie batter in one of Charley's glass mixing bowls.

"True, why do you ask?" Charley asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Jen grinned. "No reason." She looked down at her cookie batter and started humming to herself. Jen was the complete opposite of Charley in appearance and attitude. Jen had dark, curly hair that some mistook for black, which she always kept in a bob. Her skin more of an olive tone. She also spoke her mind quite often and wasn't afraid of letting someone know if they were wrong. Charley was always more of the peacemaker, yet she secretly envied her sister's bluntness. Jen also enjoyed withholding information to antagonize other people.

"Jen, you wouldn't just ask me something like that unless you had a reason, so let it out."

"Okay, fine! Well, Alex was in my store the other day, getting a gift card for his sister, Emily –you remember her, really tall, volleyball player?"

"Oh God yes," Charley replied. "That family was just born to play sports."

"I know it. Anyway, we got to talking and he asked about you, particularly if you were seeing anyone or not. Apparently, he's had a thing for you since high school."

Charley raised her eyebrows. "And he's telling you this now?"

"Yeah! Why not? Anyway, so I kind of gave him your number and told him to give you a call." She went back to putting balls of cookie dough together and placing them on the baking sheets.

"What! Jen why?" Not that Charley wasn't a little bit excited about it; Alex Strong was the best soccer player on their high school team and was considered good looking by almost all of the girls in the school (if you were into blond hair, blue eyes, and the strong, lean look). However, he and Charley never ran in the same circles. She didn't even know what he was up to anymore since they weren't friends on Facebook.

"He's coming here to Philly for a job interview with some accounting firm and since you've basically lived here since undergrad, that you would be the perfect guide."

"Accounting huh? That doesn't seem so bad," Charley wondered aloud. Jen looked up at her and smiled.

"Yeah, definitely not a bad deal. Do you know how much those number crunchers make? A lot more than what you'll make in publishing that's for sure!"

Charley rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She poured herself a glass of Merlot and sat down on the couch. "Well, if he calls me, I guess I'll pick up."

"That's the spirit!" Jen placed the cookies into the oven and then went to join Charley on the couch. She leaned her head against Charley's shoulder and sighed. "I wanted to tell you something else too."

"Hmm?"

"Well a few days ago, I came home from the shop and someone had broken into Mom and Dad's house." Even though Jen lived there full time now, they always considered it their parents, which made this news more disturbing.

"What? Why didn't you tell me when it happened?" Charley felt hurt that she had waited this long to tell her.

"I knew you were busy with research and I didn't want to bother you, especially since nothing was taken. At least nothing that we would consider valuable." When Charley raised her eyebrow, Jen continued, "The TV, the expensive china, all of that was still there. They went after Dad's old study and tore the place up. His books were everywhere, the desk drawers were ripped open…it seemed as if whoever broke in was looking for something very particular."

"What on Earth would Dad have that would need to be hidden? The man was a history teacher, not a CIA agent."

"I know," Jen retorted. "I called Mr. Hodges, and he came over to take a look. Remember how he and Dad were always working together in there? I figured he would have a better memory of what was in that room than we would. He claimed he couldn't see anything that was taken, but he had an uneasy look on his face, which made me think otherwise."

"And…" Charley said with an expectant look.

"And… so I did some digging. Dad never really talked about his past, you know? We knew Mom's past since she grew up in the same town as we did, but Dad always let her do all of the talking." She took a sip of Charley's wine, and Charley made a disgusted face. "So I searched for information on him in his office, but couldn't find anything: no birth certificate, no old yearbooks, nothing. All I could find were financial books that tracked the money that he and Mom left to us in their will and scraps of paper with weird doodles on them. So I searched for him on the Internet, and the only thing that popped up was his teacher page for the middle school."

"Well, Dad liked his secrets. Maybe he's ashamed of his past? At least you didn't find out he's some ex-convict."

"Yeah, I know, but the attack seemed so targeted…" Jen's eyes lit up. "Oh and get this! I also did a search for Mr. Hodges and his law firm, and nothing popped up… n-o-t-h-i-n-g. I mean, you'd think that he'd be at least listed in the Yellow Pages to drum up business, you know?"

"So, you think that Mr. Hodges and Dad were working on something and someone else wanted the information? Jen, that sounds crazy. Dad was a teacher. He played squash in the mornings! He liked argyle sweaters!"

Jen grimaced. "Yeah I know, that was a mistake." She sighed. "I know it sounds crazy, but I wanted you to know. I just think it's too coincidental you know?"

Charley nodded. "The circumstances do sound strange. But, I don't know if we need to be delving into Dad's past. What if we find out something we don't like? I'd hate to have my image of our father marred without him being able to give us an explanation."

"Yeah, I know. And I doubt the person will come back, now that they know what they want isn't there." Jen cuddled closer to Charley and whispered, "I really still miss them Charley."

Charley's lower lip trembled and she pulled Jen close, hugging her left arm around her. "I do too Jen."


	2. Chapter 2

Charley stared at her reflection in the mirror. She tilted her head to the side to see how her dress looked at a different angle. She was never much for wearing dresses, but the restaurant that Alex was taking her to was the kind of place a girl wore a dress to. It was a simple black chiffon dress with thin straps to keep it in place. She let her hair down and curled it a bit at the ends to give it a more elegant flair. She still couldn't believe she had let Jen talk her into hosting Alex in Philadelphia for the weekend, let alone going on a date with him. When she had told Lena, she was nearly ready to start practicing her calligraphy for wedding invitations.

"Remember when we used to faun all over the back of his head in in chemistry?" Lena had reminisced, while laying on Charley's bed. She had come over to help her pick out the perfect date outfit. Lena claimed that she had an eye for costumes.

"Yeah, those curls were just so amazing," Charley sarcastically gushed. Lena rolled her eyes. "What?" Charley said innocently.

"Well, if you don't want to go out with him, then I will!" Lena retorted.

"It's not that, it's just… it's weird. You are the only person from back home that I still talk to, everyone else was always so -"

"Stupid?" Lena offered.

"No! It's just they all want to be so sympathetic. They all give us this look like 'Oh you poor dears,' and don't really know how to have a normal conversation without asking us how we are doing."

"Jen seems to be fine with it."

"Yeah, that's why she stayed," Charley answered, fluffing her curls. "Speaking of Jen, she told me something the other day that I thought was a little strange."

"Let me guess… the break-in right?" Lena said, raising an eyebrow.

Charley did a double take. "Wait, you _knew_ about it!?"

"Charley, my mom was the first person that Jen called when she came home. Of course, I was going to find out about it."

Charley started pacing back and forth in front of Lena. "So why didn't anyone think to tell me as soon as it happened?"

Lena shrugged, and started examining her crimson red curls in the mirror. "Charley, you have been so detached from home lately that we figured that you wouldn't even want to hear about it. Whenever I talk about something or someone from home, you are always so quick to change the subject."

Charley opened her mouth to protest, but then her cell phone ringtone started going off. "Ugh, Alex. He must be here." She ran over to her cell phone, which sat on top of her nightstand by her bed. "Hello?"

Several hours later, Charley was walking around the part of Philadelphia known as Old City, her left hand laced with Alex Strong's larger, more callused hand. Maybe it was the cobble stone streets and 18th century brick style townhomes or maybe it was the three glasses of Merlot she had at dinner, but Charley was enjoying herself. Once Alex made it to her house, they took a cab to a restaurant on 3rd and Market Street, where they enjoyed some good conversation, reminiscing about their high school days. Alex caught Charley up on his four years at Penn State University and she discussed her research on gothic fiction of the late 19th Century for her Master's thesis.

Alex was still as good looking as she had remembered him. He had maintained the muscle from his high school soccer playing days, but decided to cut his blond hair shorter. His green eyes sparkled every time he laughed.

"So how are you liking Philly so far?" Charley asked him as they strolled around Washington Square.

"It's definitely different from Hollow Oak that's for sure. Less shrubbery, more tall buildings." He glanced behind them quickly.

"Well, it definitely wouldn't be at the top of the list of most environmentally friendly cities I'm sure, but it's chalk full of history and culture. Have you been to South Street? You can find some of the most fascinating people there. The theater here is amazing too."

"Are you sure you aren't just saying that because of Lena?" he joked, his eyes glancing from side to side.

She laughed. "Well, she would be angry if I said otherwise, but in reality, it's some pretty good theater. The battle is finding a decent yet inexpensive place to live," she said. They took a turn down a cobble stoned alley in between two set of townhouses.

"Yeah, a few of the guys I met at the accounting firm I interviewed with told me the same thing. They said that I should actually find a realtor to just rent a place!" Alex shook his head. "That's just insane."

"Oh you don't need to do that! I'll help you if you want," Charley offered, giving him a small smile, which he returned. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before Charley felt her cheeks heat up and then she turned away.

Alex cleared his throat. "So, I wanted to say that I heard about what happened at your parents' house."

Charley looked down at her feet. "Yeah, Jen told me last week. She seems to think there is some conspiracy thing going on with my dad and his lawyer Mr. Hodges." She laughed. "That's crazy right?"

Alex gave her a questioning look. "What kind of conspiracy?"

"I don't know because she doesn't really know. See, the only place that was ruined was my dad's office. We have never stepped foot in there since he died. It was always off limits to us even when he was alive, and we didn't want to go against his wishes, even if he was gone. His lawyer said nothing was stolen, but she doesn't believe him. She also said that apparently any history of my dad and his lawyer does not exist on the Internet."

"So you think they are hiding something?"

"IF they were, we're never going to know. My dad was always a very secretive person, and I don't blame him. Our town was full of gossips."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Alex squeaked. His eyes continued to glance behind him. "So you have no idea," he said, a bit louder than his normal speaking voice.

"No idea, and frankly, I don't care. The past is the past right? All I want to focus on is the future. I'm sure if the person who broke into the house found something, they probably don't need to come back. I told Jen to sell the place a long time ago anyway. It's too big for just her and it's not like she's starting a family in the next ten years, you know?"

Alex stopped in his tracks. "Right, okay so you don't know anything at all right?"

Charley stopped walking and turned to stare at him. "Yeah, exactly… Okay… spill, why are you acting all weird?"

He looked away. "I'm not sure what you are talking about?"

"Since we've started this walk, you have been looking around all over the place as if you think someone is following us and you keep asking me about Jen's conspiracy theory. Frankly, you're freaking me out right now, Alex, and I'm a little drunk." She crossed her arms over her chest. "So spill, what the hell is your problem?"

"Oh sorry, love, that'd be me." A lilting British male voice sang out.

Charley's voice froze in her throat. A thin man dressed in a ripped leather jacket with spiked blond hair jumped down from the roof of one of the townhouses, landing on all fours. He stood up easily, dusting off his sleeves. Charley should have been afraid of his terrifying feat and the fact that he seemed to survive the jump without so much as a scratch, but it was his eyes that terrified her more. They were hollow and as black as an empty void. When the man smiled, she saw that his teeth were filed into perfect points all the way around. She fumbled around her purse and pulled out the pocket knife she kept in there. "Wh-wh-who the hell are you?" she stammered.

The man grinned and promenaded towards them. "Oh, let's say someone who has been looking forward to this moment for a long time." He stopped in front of Alex and patted his cheek. Alex shuddered at touch. "Good boy. You may go home now." He flicked his fingers and Alex simply turned and started walking away.

Charley's eyes widened. "Alex?! Alex where the hell do you think you are going?! Help me!" she shrieked. She opened her mouth to keep screaming at him, but suddenly she felt a cold, clammy hand pin it shut. She hadn't even seen the man come up behind her, he moved that fast.

"Sh,sh,sh, that's no way to act. We don't want people to hear anything do we?" he chuckled into her ear.

Charley's body was shaking from fear, her eyes welling up with tears. She mumbled something, and he pulled his hand away for a second. "What was that dearie?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Ah, yes, I'm sure you are probably wondering that. Well, first, I wanted information. However, what you've shown to me just now is that your stupid father was smarter than I gave him credit for. It appears he let his secrets die with him."

"You knew my father?" she whispered.

"Oh yes, quite well, although we never saw eye to eye. That's why, if I can't get the information from you that I want, I think I'll take out my vengeance instead." He let go of her and she kicked off her heels and started sprinting down the alleyway. Suddenly she hit what felt like a wall and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. "Tsk, tsk, your father probably should have told you some of the things about his life, or else you would have known that running from me is useless."

She got up, shakily and turned to face him. She had no idea what she hit, but it seemed like it was an invisible wall. "What are you?"

He bowed. "Lilith's son, son of darkness, brujo if you are in South America, but I like to call myself a warlock."

"You're a witch?" she said skeptically.

He frowned. "NO you idiot girl, I'm a warlock. Blimey, what do I look like a woman?" He sighed.

"What do you want with me? And my dad?" she asked, balling her hands into fists.

"Doesn't matter anymore, does it? Your stupid father let his secrets drown with him in that creek they dredged him up from. Except that killing you would make me feel a little better."

She wiped a few tears away. "Don't talk about my father like that."

"I'll talk about your father any damn way I please, thank you very much. His work put my species in jeopardy and he killed Brigid. You are fair game, my beautiful one."

Charley turned to run again, but found the man standing in her path. "Now, what did I tell you about trying to run from me?" he said, and he grabbed a handful of her blond curls and pulled her towards him. She screamed out in pain. "Hush now, I'll make it quick…. OW!" He yelped as Charley slammed her foot down as hard as she could onto his. His grip temporarily loosened and she tried to escape, but he regained his composure quicker than she would have liked. "That wasn't very nice," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, well neither is harassing an innocent girl, but that doesn't seem to be stopping you is it?"

Charley recognized that voice. She had heard it just a week ago, briefly. The man pulled her around to face the voice. "Ah, Damon Salvatore. What are you doing here? Have the _Venatore_ council decided to punish you to playing bodyguard to their old member's living family members?"

Charley's first thought was right: it was the man she bumped into while she was running. He still took her breath away with his dark brown, almost black hair and bright blue eyes. He smirked at her. "So we meet again."

She shook her head. "So you really are a mysterious savior," she said in awe.

He bowed. "That's one thing you could call me. Though savior is too holy of a word for me." He looked at the man holding Charley back. "Come on now, Samil, let the girl go. You know that killing her will only anger your bosses, superiors, master evil doers, or whatever they call themselves."

"Look into her eyes… everything about her is Garrick. She must pay for his sins!"

"Sin is a relative term. Considering what you and your kin were doing, one might say that what Garrick was doing was in his job description: protecting the ignorant humans from becoming slaves to all of you warlocks."

Samil spit at the ground. "You _venatore_ are simple minded. If you think we are the biggest threat, then you are sorely mistaken."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, I'd love for you to explain to me why I am wrong with you in a dungeon cell." Samil hissed at him.

Charley noticed another figure walking down the alley toward them. He was slightly shorter than Damon, and had sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes that were full of concern. He wore a navy thermal long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans over a pair of boots.

"Oh, so you are working together again are you?" Samil called out.

Damon turned and smiled. "Brother, glad you showed up. I was getting tired of listening to pointy tooth here talk."

The man stopped at Damon's side. He looked at Charley. "Charlotte Marchand?" he asked her. She nodded. He looked at Damon. "Are we done here? I'd prefer if we can take Samil alive. Then we can find out who has him tailing Garrick's daughter."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Stefan, that was the goal. Samil just wants to chatter on about how stupid we are and how great his 80's punk fashion choices are," he glanced at Samil, "newsflash, the teens stopped caring about the 80s about, hmm, two years ago."

Samil growled. "You think you can catch me?" Suddenly, the air around them seemed to thin. Charley could feel herself losing oxygen. Samil let her go and she fell to the ground coughing. Samil stood before them his arms outstretched. Damon and Stefan both bent over, trying to control their breathing. "Perhaps you both can die with the Marchand scum's daughter. It would send a message to your council that we will not take threats lightly! Not anymore!"

Stefan reached into his pocket and pulled out a smooth stone, whispering into it. Unexpectedly, a flash of light appeared in the middle of his hands and he shot it out in Samil's direction. He was caught unaware and was launched backward. The force must have disrupted his spell because suddenly the air was back and Charley could breathe easy. Damon and Stefan ran toward Samil. He sat up and with wide eyes stared at the coming onslaught of the two brothers. He grinned. "Well, it has been fun catching up with you two; we should do it again sometime, eh?" Then with a flick of his finger, his body disappeared.

Damon and Stefan halted. Damon cursed under his breath. "Dammit, I thought we had him."

Stefan gave him a stern look. "Maybe if you didn't decide to chat him up, we could have caught him offguard."

"Hey, at least he gave us a little bit of insight though," Damon scoffed.

"Which is?"

"Seems that the warlocks are only small pawns in this game we are playing. They must be working for another force."

Stefan nodded. "But who?"

Charley stared at these two attractive men just standing in the middle of this alley, talking about magic and warlocks as if it was perfectly normal conversation. "Um, thank you," she called out to them.

They both stopped talking and turned in her direction. Both smiled and then strode over to her.

"Charlotte, it's so nice to meet you finally," Stefan said, taking her hand in his. He shook it in a nice, professional manner. "My name is Stefan Salvatore."

Damon took his turn, but instead of shaking her hand, he took it in his and bent down to kiss her knuckles. "_A Chante_, name's Damon Salvatore."

She couldn't help but blush. "Charlotte Marchand, but you can seem to already know that. You can call me Charley though."

Stefan smiled. "Charley, it is an honor to meet you. We used to work with your father, a long time ago."

Her eyes grew round. "You worked with my father?" she found that to be impossible considering that both looked as if they were only in their late twenties.

"Yes, we did. He was a good man. We never were able to meet your mother; when he abandoned the council, we were not supposed to make contact. However, we are deeply sorry for their deaths," Stefan said.

Charley looked from Stefan to Damon. "What council? Like an academic council?"

The boys exchanged glances. "Er, no not exactly," Damon replied. "More like demon catching, fighting 'till the death council."

"Damon," Stefan said in a warning tone.

Charley rubbed her face with her hands. "This is ridiculous! First the break in and now I'm being attacked by a witch! Let's not even forget the fact that apparently Alex was working for that weird goth guy and he probably doesn't even like me - "

"Samil has been following you for a long time, Charley. He knew that Alex was the only way to get to you. He probably threatened him and his family in exchange for him delivering you to him," Stefan explained.

Charley stared at him and then turned to Damon. "And YOU have been apparently stalking me too!" she exclaimed.

Damon feigned confusion. "Who? Me?" he smiled. "I was only checking up on you. Making sure you were safe."

"For how long?" she asked. She was starting to get more uncomfortable as this conversation progressed.

Damon was about to answer, but Stefan cut in, "Not long. We were only asked by the council to look after you and your sister when they found out that Samil was going after something that your father had. I was tailing your sister and Damon was watching you."

"Well, lot of good that did! Not only did you let Samil break into my parents' house, but you let him almost kill me!"

"Almost," Damon emphasized. "Did I or did I not come to the rescue, in the nick of time?"

Charley harrumphed and leaned against one of the townhouses. "Fine you did." She paused. "Wait, if you both are here, who's watching Jen?" worry crossed her face.

"Jen will be fine. Samil isn't looking for her. He's looking for you," Stefan answered.

"Why?"

The brothers exchanged glances again. "I think this talk would be better over some whiskey, don't you agree, Brother?" Damon said.


End file.
